


The Hunger

by Nina36



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 12:18:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nina36/pseuds/Nina36
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I drank blood because it was better than the alternative.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hunger

“Because it’s wrong and it’s bad and we shouldn’t?”

She had me the moment she uttered those words. 

She had me when she uttered the words I had dreamed, wished, someone else said to me. 

She knew what to say, when to say it. Part of me knew and didn’t really care. He wasn’t there anymore. 

He had left me: he had sold his soul for me, but we were both in hell.

Her body was warm and soft, as she said, and as the dam broke and she rode me, hard and fast, I kept my eyes closed, my head tilted back, wishing, hoping, hating myself and the ache I felt.

Because it was wrong…

Because I shouldn’t have…but I did. 

I had almost, not quite but…almost, deluded myself into thinking that it was just sex, that it didn’t matter, that I could function, that I could be just his brother…

I had almost deluded myself into thinking that I wasn’t in love with him…and that he hadn’t been in love with me.

The blood came into my life, her blood, shortly before he came back.

The rush, the exhilaration, the power I felt the first time, reminded me of what I used to feel with him: I felt invincible, powerful. I felt like nothing could hurt me.   
It didn’t hurt. As the powers within me stirred, heated my blood, my skin, as I felt her eyes on me, I didn’t hurt. 

The dreams I had, after I first started drinking her blood, left me panting, craving for more. I dreamed of him: green eyes, full lips, wet tongue trailing down my skin; his strong hands on me, warm, firm, kneading my muscles, stroking my skin, loving me, his voice, deep, urging me, whispering things to me.

Did she knew? Did she knew when she fed me her blood? Did she enjoy breaking my heart , giving me exactly what I wanted?   
Did she knew as she let me fuck her imagining, every single time, that it was him I fucked? 

Never did she say a word to me, even when I woke up from my dreams, my eyes stinging with tears, my heart shattering and the emptiness threatening to swallow me whole.

I drank her blood to get Lilith, to be strong enough to kill the demon whore who had killed my brother. I wanted her dead because she had killed us both.

The night he came back I was sober. I was clean. I was supposed to drink blood later that night, before going to face Lilith.   
He came back. He was real. He wasn’t a dream, a blood induced fantasy. He was in my arms, alive. My brother, my better half, the man I loved. 

The man who loved me back, but would never, ever cross that line. Because it was wrong. Because we shouldn’t. 

I kept drinking blood, for the power and the dreams. I kept drinking blood because it made me feel powerful, because I couldn’t have Dean. 

It was another kind of wrong, another thing I wasn’t supposed to do, one of the many. Somewhere along the line I figured I was already damned, so it didn’t really matter. I drank her blood and fucked her body because it was better, safer than what I really wanted to do.

I wished I’d have the guts to go to him, to try and break through the walls he was building, to tear away the pain he was shrouding himself with and tell him, voice what I felt, act on my feelings. Instead I kept hiding things from him, pushing him away, falling deeper and deeper into the abyss that had opened up for me the night he had died. 

I drank blood because it was better than the alternative. 

Better than loving my brother in a way that couldn’t be, it was better than reading the love, the desire in his eyes and knowing it would never happen.


End file.
